


Storm of the Century

by Athexreh



Category: The Blackrock Chronicle - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Dark Thoughts, F/M, Gen, The Blackrock Chronicle - Fandom - Freeform, Who needs food when we have magic, no beta we die like my hopes and dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27720506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athexreh/pseuds/Athexreh
Summary: It started with a storm. And yeah they both knew that there wasn't anything natural about it, but when had anything really been normal in the Blackrock homestead? It's just something else to weather, after all.A bit of rain never hurt anyone, after all.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Deluge

Brushing her bangs out of her eyes, Zoey silently cursed. The storm was far worse than she and Rythian had anticipated. It had been brewing on the horizon for so long that she’d nearly forgotten the coil of fear that settled in her stomach the first time she’d seen those clouds peek over the horizon. Like many things it had just become a part of everyday life. Wake up far too early, feed the cows, say hello to the murder clouds, start digging the trenches for the farm, watch Rythian sleep. The usual.

And then the clouds snapped to attention and stretched their sticky fingers across the sky with a dry gust of wind that flipped the roof off the dog house. For a single moment the sun stubbornly burned and then it was snuffed out. The sudden chill dug deep into her bones and she was moving almost before she felt the rain lashing across her skin. 

As the wind gusted again, she slammed into one of Blackrock's walls with a low hiss that was swallowed by the storm. Slipping in the mud, she struggled to her feet, pointedly ignoring the bruise throbbing along her side. There were more important things. Shielding her eyes from the sand and dirt did nothing to keep it from stinging against her skin in a thousand needles.

"Zoey!"

She jumped at the harshness of her name ripping through the wind. Turning as best she could, she shot Rythian her best glare. Being outside was stupid; she knew for a fact he’d been inside all day. Even in the storm he looked only mildly put out despite the purple haze sparking along his feet.For some reason it left her irrationally irritated. 

"Rythian! The cows-"

"Will be fine," he interrupted, grabbing her arm. "I promise," he added as she struggled out of his grip and ended up knee deep in a slough.

"They better be," she yelled over the wind. She let herself be led back toward the door, struggling to keep from slamming into the hard stone of her home. It was more challenging than she cared to admit. Rain made everything grey and slick and miserable and cold. She couldn’t feel the scrapes along the palms of her hands anymore.

By the time they made it around the building back to the front entrance, a torrent of rain and slush was pelting the earth and swirling around their feet. It pulled with each step, clinging even as the wards snapped to life and burned against their skin.

"This isn't natural," Rythian spat out as soon as the heavy door slammed behind them, shutting out the worst of the storm.

But Zoey wasn't listening. "You sure they'll be alright?"

Rolling his eyes, he shed his outer coat, sparing it a glare before answering. "You don't trust me?"

"It's not that!" she said hurriedly, "I trust you. It's this storm I don't trust."

Humming, he gently hung the offending coat by the door, silently watching chunks of ice slosh off to the ground. "I don't like it either," he admitted in a low voice, "I just really hope Lalna isn't trying to play god again."

"I'm sure that's not it," Zoey said, a tense smile plastered across her face, "Even he wouldn't be stupid enough to try that again."

"You know what the definition of insanity is, right? Trying the same thing multiple times and expecting a different result. Sound like anyone we know?” He held up a hand as she puffed up, “But that's beside the point; no matter what (or who) caused it, we still have to deal with it."

Silence stretched between them for a long moment before Zoey shifted her weight and gave her companion a timid look. "Hey Rythian," she began. "Remember when you said magic wasn't for mucking about?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, scrambling to think of a way to tell her that even he wasn't skilled enough to stop the storm. He’d tried. And all he’d done was deplete his magic reserves and maybe stalled the ice long enough to drag Zoey back inside.

"Well... we're both soaked to the bone and all. And that's sorta important, right, with all of our spare clothes being upstairs and the storm and..." she trailed off looking somewhat sheepish.

Relief coursed through him as he realized what she was asking for. That much he could do; it was basically a parlor trick he’d mastered ages ago. He gestured, a wave of heat coiling around the two of them. As the dampness evaporated, so did the bone-deep weariness he hadn’t even been aware of.

"And while you're at it," she said hastily, "would you mind warming up some soup? And maybe a pot of water? Oh and-"

"Hold up. What am I," he grumbled in mock injury, "a hot-pad?"

"Well if you weren't so opposed to technology we'd have a microwave, now wouldn't we?"

"I'm not opposed to technology; I'm opposed to the misuse of- oh why do I even bother," he sighed as Zoey skipped out of the room with a shit-eating grin and a peal of laughter.

"Teep!" she yelled, "Rythian's going to warm some soup. Want any?" There was an answering grumble, then a clatter of what could only be every single bowl they owned hitting the floor.

With a long exhale, he shook his head; it wouldn't really hurt to indulge in Zoey's demands. Requests? No, definitely demands. Making his way into the kitchen, he couldn't help but notice that the somewhat muffled sounds of the storm had only intensified in the few moments since they’d stepped inside. It really was worrying. His skin itched as he thought of the accursed rain and ice pinging against the roof and digging into the wards.

Pushing that out of his mind for the time being, he walked into the kitchen and froze. There wasn’t really much that could have prepared him for the scene that greeted him. Teep, his arm still heavily bandaged, was crowded into a corner, his tail flicking as his gaze shifted between Rythian and the back of Zoey’s head. On the floor before him was a small bowl, no doubt filled with Zoey's infamously tasteless soup. At the dinosaur's disgruntled look, Rythian stumbled into action and awkwardly patted his uninjured arm.

"Teep," he said, laughter lacing his voice, "you're welcome to use the condenser, you know."

"No," Zoey said, pointing a wooden ladle at the two of them, "Teep wants soup, not any of that condensed meat."

Giving Teep an apologetic look, he sighed in defeat. It wasn’t worth going over that argument all over again. "Fine. Teep wants soup. Clearly." Once Zoey had turned away he muttered, "Just put up with it and we'll get you some real food later, buddy."

Growling, Teep pointedly sniffed the bowl and gave Rythian an unimpressed side eye. With his uninjured arm, he gingerly lifted the bowl and plopped it into his maw. With a crunch, he swallowed the whole thing down.

"Umm, Zoey... I hope you weren't too attached to that bowl."

Spinning around, her eyes comically wide, she exclaimed, "Teep, you poor thing! You must be starving. Here, have some more!" Once she was sure the dinosaur was dutifully chewing through another bowl, she turned expectantly to Rythian.

"We've had this talk before," he said, throwing his hands up in defense.

"I know. And I still say you need to eat something."

"Zoey. The Lifestone-"

"Isn't a substitute for a good meal. Look at you; I swear you've lost weight again."

"I haven't," he muttered, not quite meeting her glare. Silently cursing her observant nature and his own carelessness, he turned his attention to Teep and started fiddling with his bandages. There was no way he could explain. He’d had nightmares about the day she'd piece together the fact that the Lifesone was the only thing keeping him alive. The only thing forcing his heart to continue pumping blood throughout his body. There was no way she'd understand. Hell, even he didn't really understand the deep-rooted hatred burning in his veins. What he did know was that if Zoey wasn't there, if she ever left again, he wouldn't even bother picking the stone up. Some days he’d set it down on the workbench and carry about his research, dimly aware of the strain that settled across his frame when he strayed to the edges of its sphere of influence. It was a heady feeling.

It really was a burden, the slow, dull burn of inevitable destruction. Strange that he only ever really felt alive when the rest of him was withering away. If it hadn't been for Zoey, for the Lifestone, the armor he never dared to shed, the well of magic at his beck and call, and the runes he’d painstakingly carved into his own flesh, he was sure he would have faded long ago. Even with Zoey constantly distracting him with her endless fountain of optimism, he wondered what his blood would look like now that there was so little of it left. Would it still be red or an inky black? Did he want to know?

A bowl being shoved under his nose shook him out of his musing, the heavy stench of ripe mushroom and warm milk dragging him kicking and screaming back into the present with a roll of his stomach.

"Zoey..." he growled, but there wasn't any fight in his words. He just took the offered bowl and held it awkwardly, nearly gagging at the rich smell. Setting it down on the only inch of clutter-free table he sighed and weighed the cons of arguing all over again.

"I'm not trying to poison you," she said softly, a mixture of bitter amusement and worry shining in her eyes. She looked like she was about to cry. It was a look he loathed to see on her face and one that was becoming a more common occurrence. The fact that he put it there shriveled the last of the fight out of him.

"I know," he sighed, "But there's no use in me eating it. It'll just be a waste since I've got the Lifestone, yeah?"

Zoey chewed on her lip, clearly not satisfied with his answer. Avoidance was a better term. "Just one bite?" She asked, putting on her best puppy-dog look.

"Just one," he relented, easing into a crudely made chair. He tried to ignore the triumphant gleam in the face across from him, but the thick liquid staring up at him wasn't that much better. At least it didn’t look at him like he was a lost cause. So that was nice. He took a deep breath then spooned the thick liquid into his mouth. The taste was indescribable.

"There," he grumbled, his stomach revolting, “Happy?” 

“For now,” she grinned. It was a real smile. The first one in a very long time. And, even though it was still tinged with worry, it was like basking in a sunbeam. 

Blinking, he shook his head and managed to keep the nausea down long enough to memorize that feeling. Then he was muttering an excuse as he retreated into his study where it all came back up with a vengeance.


	2. Aftermath

They didn’t sleep that first night. Huddled in an impressive fort of every blanket they owned, they listened to the howling of the wind as it drew closer. Eventually it slammed, full body, into the outer walls and dug its fingers into the gaps in the stone. It echoed through the empty corridors, picking up speed and volume until it shrieked and beat against locked doors. It sounded like screaming. Like voices- like a conversation. Like the cries of a midnight dream finally breaking free.

Teep listened to the sound for only a moment before rumbling and curling tighter around Rythian and Zoey. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was glad to be in a position where he could keep an eye on them, no matter how much they both denied needing supervision. They got into too much trouble on their own (it was even worse when they both plotted), and Teep was only one dinosaur, great as he was. 

It was cozy inside their makeshift fort, he’d admit, and even warmer where his two charges sat propped against his side. For once they weren’t scampering off to do lord knows what or hatching an ill-thought plan. He was going to enjoy the moment, storm be damned. 

Teep breathed in the scent of clean linen and campfire smoke. It was a safe scent: it smelled like home. The stolen calm washed over him and felt himself start to relax. Even the low sound of his best friends murmuring was achingly familiar and sent a pang of fondness through his soul. He’d missed this. He’d missed the times when it was just the three of them against the world, carving out their own existence and defending their stake. Their low chuckles caught him by surprise. And, under the faint glow of magelights, he silently vowed to protect those sounds- to shelter that uneasy moment of happiness. 

The storm faded. 

The small moment- the eye of the hurricane- stolen back from the typhoon lingered in all their minds.

Life returned to normal. 

As soon as sickly light broke through the clouds two days later, Zoey was out the door and trudging her way through the absolutely ruined expanse of their front yard. She nearly twisted her ankle a dozen times, and stumbled once on the edge of a deep crevice, but there was nothing- not hell nor highwater (and they’d certainly had both recently)- that was going to get in between her and making sure the cows were fine.

There was nothing better than the cheerful lowing that greeted her as she vaulted over the fence. They were fine. And if her knees buckled under her, it was only so she could better reach Nilesy Jr and bury her hands into the soft tufts of his fur. The baby mooshroom wriggled in her grip and snuffled at her hair with warm breath. For a single moment, everything was perfect.

So something had to come and ruin it.

Today’s flavor happened to be an entirely too-happy-for-that-much-mud-seriously-what happened Willow shaking herself off inside the pen. It startled a laugh out of her and she reached out a hand to pull Willow under her arm. The tail that beat against her leg and the tongue that lapped at her face chased away the last lingering ache in her soul and she was able to take her first unobstructed breath. 

With that, she shook herself off, gave all the cows a good scratch, and made her way out of the pen and stood with her hands on her hips. Finally she was ready to take stock. And start repairs, because, even from here she could see the pile of dirt and sand that coated nearly every surface and spilled into the backyard lake. All of that would have to be cleared out.

With a sigh she rolled up her sleeves and got to work.

When Rythian joined her outside, things really started to get moving. They piled up and packed down sand and dirt into neat rows before dividing into their own tasks. Rythian hovered at the edges of her vision, magic bubbling between his hands in a way that she’d last seen when they’d first laid down the rune-wards. It made her smile this time; the air was crisp and clean in a way it hadn’t been then.

“What are you doing with that?” Rythian asked as he wandered closer.

Brushing the back of her hand across her forehead, she paused. “Expanding the farm? If we redirect the creek this way we can get sugar cane going.”

“That’d be useful,” he agreed, focusing mostly on the smooth stone in his hands and the steady stream of magic carving a new rune into the dark surface. 

“Yeah! And we could set that over there as a pumpkin patch and I think we’ve still got some potatoes we could plant.” She’d been trying to sell the merits of a farm expansion for ages. And had gotten exactly nowhere in that same amount of time. There was no way she was going to let this go; they were going to be cleaning and remodeling anyways. It was perfect.

And, if she gave in to the sudden urge to snatch the runestone from between Rythian’s fingers and start up an impromptu game of keepaway, well that was simply the icing on top of the cake. They’d earned a bit of fun (and if it took him far longer than was strictly necessary to reclaim the stone, she wasn’t about to say anything. Simple, uncomplicated happiness was a rare look and she’d treasure the moment).

**Author's Note:**

> Tossing this out there to see what happens, I guess? Mostly for fun.


End file.
